Alone With You
by Arin DeStruction
Summary: Everyone sees Sherlock Holmes as a robot. Everyone except the one girl who melted his icy exterior and broke him in more ways than one. Pre-series to post-Reichenbach Sherlock/OC
1. Cause: Their First Meeting

**Alone With You**

**Cause: Their First Meeting**

**A/N: So, the way this story is going to be written in in chapters alternating between 10 years pre-series (chapters beginning with "CAUSE") and 6 months pre-Reichenbach (chapters beginning with "EFFECT") and each pair of cause and effect chapters will have some correlation with each other. Read, review, follow, favorite, do whatever. But let me know how you like the story! xoxo**

McKinleigh Kelly was never a shy girl, always had a lot of friends. But right now, though they kept calling her aunt, she didn't want to speak to any of them. She was only 15 and now an orphan. Her mother had passed on 8 years earlier, but her father had only been gone for two weeks. After her father died, she began acting out more than usual, and her grandmother sent her to her aunt's, hoping to straighten her out a bit.

She was currently sat on the front steps of 221 Baker Street, smoking a cigarette and glaring at anyone who dared to look at her. She heard the front door open and didn't turn around to see who was walking out before speaking. "I'll be in in a minute, Auntie. I'm almost finished."

"Who are you?" said a deep, bored voice behind her. Definitely not her aunt.

McKinleigh jumped at the unexpected voice and turned around quickly. The man behind her furrowed his brow at her appearance. Her hair was dark black, obviously dyed, and her eyes were ice blue. She had multiple piercings including her septum, a Monroe piercing on her upper lip, and gauges in her earlobes. She had on red plaid pants, a band t-shirt, and knee-high black combat boots. "Are you Mrs. Hudson's new tenant, Sherlock Holmes? The one who just finished uni? You must be. She said you were handsome; had amazing cheekbones." McKinleigh studied him for a minute. "She was right."

"I still have absolutely no idea who you are." The man drawled.

"McKinleigh Kelly, Mrs. Hudson's niece. You can call me Mack. But only if you tell me who you are." She stamped out her cigarette, pulled her pack out, and lit another one.

"You're right. I'm the new tenant. You can call me Sherlock." He stared at her cigarette. "I don't really like Mack. Why would you want to go by a man's name when you have a perfectly suitable one at your disposal?"

McKinleigh shrugged. "Because I can. Do you need something?" She asked, chuckling because he was practically drooling over her cigarette.

"I'm sorry. I think I'm being rude. Honestly don't care. Do you have an extra one of those?" Without a word, McKinleigh reached into her pocket and pulled out her cigarettes, surrendering one to Sherlock. "Um, thank you, I guess. I'm out of... Well, it doesn't really matter what I'm out of. So, it was either tea or cigarettes and I'm not particularly thirsty. I was on my way to get some, actually." He didn't know why he felt so compelled to tell this girl what he was doing.

"I'll walk with you." McKinleigh couldn't help but chuckle when Sherlock looked a bit taken aback as she stood up to walk with him. "Not used to people offering company, Mr. Holmes?"

"I prefer to do things by myself." He said simply, as they began walking.

"That seems like it'd be a rather lonely existance." They both took drags of their cigarettes in silence for a moment.

"It's not so lonely when I've done it my whole life. I don't usually enjoy other people's company. They distract me from my thinking." He took another long drag from his cigarette.

"Maybe you just haven't found the right company yet." McKinleigh smiled as Sherlock only acknowledged her statement with a small nod of his head. They reached the cigarette shop rather quickly, much quicker than either party expected. "I'll wait here while you go in."

When Sherlock walked out of the shop, he noticed McKinleigh rubbing her side, wincing slightly in pain. "Pat that, don't rub it. Rubbing it is only making your shirt soak up the ointment faster."

McKinleigh furrowed her brow at his statement. "What?"

"Your tattoo. Pat it, don't rub it." He packed his cigarettes quickly and took no time in sticking one in his mouth and lighting it.

"How did you know I had a tattoo?" McKinleigh asked as they began walking back to 221 Baker Street.

"You reek of tattoo ointment. And by the looks of how the pain is barely affecting you, it's not your first."

McKinleigh simply nodded. "It's my first big one. And it itches like a motherfucker."

The walk back to the flat was covered in comfortable silence. When they reached Sherlock's flat inside, Sherlock smiled a tiny, uncomfortable smile. He never smiled and McKinleigh could tell. "Thank you for accompanying me, Ms. Kelly."

"I told you to call me Mack, Mr. Holmes."

"I told you to call me Sherlock and you have yet to do so. Anyways, I also told you that I didn't like Mack. I'll think of something else. Until we meet again, Ms. Kelly."

"Yes, until we meet again, Mr. Holmes." McKinleigh grinned as they parted ways.

They met again much sooner than both of them expected. McKinleigh groaned as she looked at her alarm clock and saw that it was after one in the morning. She laid there for a moment when she realized she could hear violin music floating up the stairs. Knowing that there was only one other tenant in the building, she went to investigate. She left the flat quietly, trying not to wake her aunt. As she walked down the stairs, she noticed the light flooding from 221B and grinned as she realized that Sherlock had left his door slightly ajar.

When she reached the door, she pushed it open, hoping it wouldn't make any noise, and began to silently watch Sherlock standing at his window, violin in hand. When he finished, she began a slow clap. Sherlock turned quickly, shocked and not realizing he had gained an audience.

"Moonlight Sonata. I pictured you as more of a Vivaldi kind of guy than Beethoven, to be completely honest."

"You know Beethoven?" Sherlock asked, carefully placing his violin on the table.

"I know a lot of things." She bit her lip as she noticed Sherlock's eyes rake down her body and remembered she was in a barely-there tank top and the shortest shorts she owned.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." Sherlock's eyes landed on the tiger tattoo on her outer right thigh. "You said your new tattoo was your only big one."

"Stretched the truth a bit. But to be fair, the one on my side is technically bigger." She began to make herself comfortable on the couch while Sherlock just stared.

"Tigers represent being noble and fearless. Confident. Unpredictable. Tense. In a hurry."

"And you've summed me up in just a few words. That's why I got it." Sherlock stayed quiet as McKinleigh finished speaking. "You're analyzing me, aren't you? I confuse you."

"Well, you aren't wrong."

McKinleigh stood up from the couch and walked past Sherlock to stand at the window, brushing the belt on his open robe as she passed. "Beautiful view, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

McKinleigh spun around, his voice closer than she thought it would be. Sherlock was close behind her, and he wasn't looking out the window, he was staring straight at her. Her breath caught in her throat as he pressed his lips to hers ever so briefly.

"Do you make it a habit of kissing girls you just met, Mr. Holmes?" She asked as he pulled away looking bewildered.

"I don't make it a habit of kissing anyone. Ever."

McKinleigh started playing with the string tied at the top of Sherlock's pajama pants. "Nice to know that I'm an exception, I guess."

"We shouldn't be doing this. How old are you?" Sherlock asked, inching as close as he could get, placing a hand at the back of her neck and tangling his fingers in her hair.

"Fifteen." She replied.

"We really shouldn't be doing this. You should go back to bed." But Sherlock didn't move. He kept his hand on her neck and placed one precariously on her hip.

"I don't want to. Besides, you can't be that much older than me."

"Six years older." Sherlock said gruffly. "That's illegal."

"It was a kiss, Sherlock." She said, using his first name. "It's not like we slept together. I'd really like if you'd kiss me again."

Sherlock said nothing, just let his baser instincts take over and kissed McKinleigh again. She stood on her tiptoes and tangled her fingers in his dark, curly hair as he discarded his robe. Their kiss deepened and he slowly led her back to his couch, laying her down gently, never breaking contact.

McKinleigh grazed Sherlock's lip with her teeth and he groaned. "Mackie... Watch yourself." He warned in a gruff whisper.

"Mackie." McKinleigh whispered. "I like that." She smiled as Sherlock captured her lips again and she ran one hand down his back, earning a shudder in response. She dipped her hand under the waistband of his pajama pants and gently grazed the top of his bum.

"Go to bed." He groaned out into their kiss.

McKinleigh pulled away a bit. "I can't go to bed if you're laying on top of me. Although, I wouldn't mind that."

Sherlock stood up slowly and ran his hands through his hair. "Go back to bed, Mackie."

McKinleigh began to pout a little. "Did I do something wrong?" She stood up off of the couch and crossed her arms.

"Never. It's late. Please." His eyes were begging her to stay and to go at the same time.

"Fine." McKinleigh whispered as she walked towards the door.

Sherlock caught her arm. He placed a small kiss on her lips. "Come visit me for tea tomorrow afternoon. I know for a fact that Mrs. Hudson will be running errands around 2."

"Okay." McKinleigh smiled widely. "Until we meet again, Mr. Holmes?" She asked.

"Until we meet again."

X X X


	2. Effect: The Prodigal Niece Returns

**Alone With You**

**Effect: The Prodigal Niece Returns**

**A/N: Partially inspired by the song Alone With You by Jake Owen.**

"... It was the maid, John! The maid did it. It's always the maid!" Sherlock Holmes yelled as he and John Watson walked up the inside steps to 221B Baker Street.

"Yes, well, at least you didn't go for the victim, this time." John stated, shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh, do keep your voice down, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson said, coming down the stairs. "Did I forget to remind you that I was having company today?"

"Of course you didn't, Mrs. Hudson." John answered, turning around. Sherlock turned, too, and if he was shocked by what he saw, he kept it to himself.

"You remember my niece, McKinleigh, don't you, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked, smiling. "You've met once or twice before."

"I remember her. Nice to see you again, Ms. Kelly." The girl seemed to falter for a moment as Sherlock addressed, but quickly composed herself. No one but Sherlock happened to notice. Partially because he noticed everything, everywhere. But mostly because there was never anything the raven-haired, blue-eyed beauty did that escaped his attention. Not the first time they met and certainly not now.

"Always so formal, Mr. Holmes. It's nice to see you again. And it's nice to meet you, Mr...?" She stuck her hand out to John.

"Doctor." He corrected. "Watson, John Watson. You can call me John. I'm Sherlock's flatmate." He said, shaking her hand enthusiastically.

"Good, good. From what my dear Aunt tells me, he needs somebody to keep him in line." McKinleigh smiled as they released hands. "You can call me Mack. Everyone but these two do."

"Well, Mack," John chuckled. "I don't know how well I keep him in line, actually. Mrs. Hudson, here, is your aunt, you say?"

"Yes." McKinleigh nodded. "I've come for a visit and we've been talking about the possibility of me occupying the basement flat. I've been abroad, you see, and I feel it's time to settle down." She glanced ever so briefly at Sherlock.

"Alright, well, you two get on with whatever you were doing. I told McKinleigh I'd show her what I did to the flat for her. I'm really hoping she says. She's been away for so long." Mrs. Hudson interjected, smiling at her niece.

"Yes, of course. Sherlock, come along." John said, nodding goodbye to the girl and Mrs. Hudson.

"It was good to see you again, Ms. Kelly." Sherlock nodded briefly, uncharacteristically, before disappearing into 221B behind John.

McKinleigh was pleased with the way her aunt had set up the bottom flat for her and opted to spend the night up there, promising Mrs. Hudson that she would be up to her aunt's flat as soon as she awoke.

When night fell, she slipped off her shirt, bra, and jeans, opting to sleep in on of the many spaghetti-strapped tank tops she owned, and crawled into bed, waiting. Not long after she closed her eyes, she heard her door open and she smiled.

"How did I manage to forget what a great actor you are, Mr. Holmes?" She questioned, opening her eyes to see Sherlock leaning against the door frame into her bedroom with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"And we can't forget your performance earlier, what with the pale face, shocked look, and stuttering speech. It was almost award worthy." Sherlock drawled.

"I'm sorry, I was caught unaware. I figured I'd have a few hours, a day even, or a week if I was lucky, before I had to see you. I didn't think I'd see you when I had been here less than an hour."

"But, of course I would be here when you arrived. How could I forget?" Sherlock cocked his head to the side.

"So, my arrival time and date were important enough to keep a slot in your Mind Palace, were they?" McKinleigh asked, sitting up.

"Everything you do is of great importance to me. Which brings me to my next question. What exactly are you doing here?"

"You heard me tell John. I'm thinking of moving in."

"So, you'd be staying... For good?"

"For as long as I want, anyways." McKinleigh shook her head and smiled a bit.

"You'll run again. You always do." Sherlock stated, closing the door and sitting in the desk chair placed against the wall.

"Auntie's getting on in age. She needs me here."

"She'd do fine without you." Sherlock said simply.

"I need her, then. We're all each other has left, you know that."

"You don't need anybody. You've always made that perfectly clear." Sherlock began to mindlessly play with his scarf.

"Maybe I missed you." McKinleigh whispered.

"I'd better go. Don't know why I came down here anyways." Sherlock muttered, standing up.

"Don't! Don't you dare do that, Sherlock Holmes!" McKinleigh jumped up from her bed.

Sherlock stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around. "Don't do what, might I ask?"

"Don't run off at the first sign of emotion! Tell me you missed me like I know you did. You texted me at least once a day for a year after I left. 392 texts in total, I believe."

"And if I recall, you only texted back once. 'We can't do this, Sherlock. Stop texting me.'" He recited, spinning around angrily.

"Yes, and if _I_ recall, it only took you 6 more months to get the picture. I was a child, Sherlock, doing things that were way beyond my years. How could I not run? But I've been around now. I've been travelling. I've grown up. I can do this now."

"You seemed pretty grown up when we were doing... what we were doing..." Sherlock brushed a piece of hair out of McKinleigh's face.

"I wasn't. But I am, now. I'm ready now." McKinleigh whispered.

"Well, then, Mackie," Sherlock whispered back, using his special nickname for her, stepping closer. "What do you propose we do about that?"

"Stay with me tonight."

Sherlock captured her lips in a kiss, closing the space between them. "I can't stay." A tear slid down McKinleigh's cheek as Sherlock's hand roamed under her shirt and she felt his breath hitch in his throat as he felt how soft her skin was for the first time in a long time. "Hey, it's okay. Don't cry. It doesn't matter, anymore." He mumbled against her lips.

"It matters to me, Sherlock." McKinleigh whispered, pressing their foreheads together. "Don't kiss me and tell me you can't stay with me. Don't tell me it's okay. If we can't do this, if we can't be together, I can't be alone with you. I just can't."

"What will Mrs. Hudson say?" Sherlock mused, chuckling quietly, as McKinleigh began to undo his ever present scarf and threw it on the floor. She stripped him of his jacket next.

"She'll say okay. She'll be okay with this." McKinleigh closed her eyes. "Please, please stay with me tonight."

Sherlock said nothing, just gripped the hem of the thin tank top and pulled it over McKinleigh's head, pausing to stare at the beautiful girl that he towered over by at least 6 inches. He sighed in defeat. "I missed you, Mackie. Damn it, I missed you." He captured her lips once more, laying her gently on the bed. He hovered over her, a smile creeping up on his lips. "Don't leave me again. I don't think I could handle it."

"You'd have John." McKinleigh said, as she pulled off Sherlock's shirt.

"He's nice enough company. But he doesn't look even half as good as you do shirtless." Sherlock began to kiss down McKinleigh's jawline and she squirmed underneath him, closing her eyes and moaning in pleasure. "You're stunning." He muttered into her neck.

"Fuck it all, Sherlock. I love you." McKinleigh moaned into his ear.

"And I, you." Sherlock whispered after a moment. McKinleigh grinned, knowing that that was as much as she would get out of him for now. He peeled her panties off and took a deep breath. It had been so long since the last time he had this beautiful girl underneath him.

Later that night, McKinleigh lay sleeping with her arms wrapped tightly around Sherlock, while he laid next to her completely awake with his arm around her shoulders. To most people that knew him, he had one side. A cold, uncaring, logical side. But McKinleigh brought out the other side, the hidden one. He loved her. Most people, even John, thought he was asexual, having no attraction to anyone. But this girl, this silly little girl that he met when he was 21 and she was only 15, brought out that side of him that he kept so closely guarded. He stared down at the naked girl next to him and smiled for what seemed like the millionth time that night. No one saw him smile. He never smiled. But somehow, she made him smile more than anything.

And maybe, just maybe, she would actually stay around this time. Maybe she was telling the truth and she was done running. The first time she ran, she was 16. The second time, she was almost 20. Now, she was 25. Ten years since they had first met. She had traveled the world. She really had grown up.

Maybe he could finally call her his for good. He definitely didn't mind being alone with her.

X X X


	3. Cause: Tea With Sherlock

**Alone With You**

**Cause: Tea With Sherlock**

McKinleigh tentatively walked down to Sherlock's flat the next morning. She heard a barely audible "Come in!" as she knocked on the door. When she walked into the flat, she followed noses coming from the kitchen and froze in place when she saw Sherlock standing there with a jar full of human body parts.

"Those are toes." McKinleigh stated, raising an eyebrow, wanting to be disgusted but was more intrigued than anything.

"Very insightful, Ms. Kelly." Sherlock said, setting the jar down.

"Why do you have a jar full of toes? No, wait- better yet, how did you aquire a jar full of toes? Or do I even want to know? You aren't a serial killer, are you?"

"I'm experimenting. I have friends in high places. No, I'm not a serial killer or I probably would have taken care of you before you could ask if I was one." Sherlock groaned at the jar of toes and stuck them in the freezer. "What are you doing here?"

"You asked me to come last night?" McKinleigh furrowed her brow. "You told me to come when Auntie went out to run errands."

"Oh, yes... I did, didn't I? Well, then, I guess I should offer you tea or something?"

"Tea would be great." McKinleigh couldn't help but laugh a bit. "You don't have company often, do you?"

"Not really, no." Sherlock answered, fumbling with the teapot.

McKinleigh walked over to him and took the pot from him. "Go sit. I'll do it."

"But you're the guest?" Sherlock cocked his head to the side. Even he knew that something was not right with her asking to make tea in his own flat.

"Yes, but we'll never have tea if I let you do it." A short while later, she was bringing two steaming cups of tea into the sitting room and handed one to Sherlock, smiling. "See? Didn't take too long." She winked. "So, I have to ask. What was up with last night?"

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked, taking a sip of his tea and giving McKinleigh a small nod of approval.

"You, Mr. I-Don't-Kiss-Anyone-Ever, getting all freaked out because of my age and then proceeding to suck my face off. So, tell me, what was up with that?"

"Believe me, if I knew, I'd tell you. I don't kiss people. People distract me from my thinking. I don't deal with anyone if I don't have to. But you... You are a conundrum, Ms. Kelly. There is just something about you that- I just can't stay away."

"Trust me, Mr. Holmes. You don't want any part of me."

"And why is that?"

"I'm fucked up, for lack of a better word. I don't get emotionally invested very easily. And when I do, it freaks me the hell out. Therefore, I also try to keep people from getting emotionally invested in me." McKinleigh sat quietly for a moment, contemplating what to say next. "I run from things. If things start to get too crazy or out of my control, I run. I've never had a real relationship, so I can't say if I'd run from one, but with my past experience, I probably would. I'd like to be your friend... Sherlock." She liked the way his name rolled off of her tongue. "But don't expect anything more than a friend."

Sherlock stared into McKinleigh's eyes for a minute, seemingly thinking about what she had said. But when he finally spoke, it was like he hadn't heard her at all. "I'm going to kiss you now." He said, standing up and holding his hand out to her.

McKinleigh stared at his hand like it was poisoned. "Did you listen to a word I said? I can't do a relationship. I don't want to lead you on."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand himself and pulled her up to him. "I heard you." He placed his hands on her tiny waist and he watched as she bit her lip.

"Sherlock..." She whispered. "Stop."

He shook his head. "Wish I could, Mackie. But I can't." He brushed his thumb down her cheek. "Take those piercings out of your face. I don't like them." He said, gruffly.

"You aren't listening to me, so what makes you think I'm going to listen to you?" McKinleigh asked, rolling her eyes.

Sherlock brushed his thumb over her Monroe piercing. "Except this one. I like this one." McKinleigh closed her eyes in defeat and slowly took out her eyebrow, lip, and septum rings. "Much better." Sherlock whispered.

McKinleigh felt her knees buckle as Sherlock's lips conneted with hers. He lifted his hands from her waist to run his fingers through her long, thick, black hair. She grazed his bottom lip with her teeth and he groaned, grabbing at the hair on the back of her head. She could feel him pressing against her thigh. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards what she assumed was his bedroom.

"Do you wanna-" She asked, kissing him once more.

"I- uhm- well," Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Come on." McKinleigh whispered in his ear, pulling him to the bed. She pushed him down onto his mattress and pulled his jeans off. She shimmied out of her own jeans and underwear before realeasing him from his own boxers. Straddling his lap, she bit her lip. "You okay?"

Sherlock tried to seem confident as he placed his hands on her hips. "I think so." He whispered, as she lifted up and slowly encased himself inside of her.

Afterwards, McKinleigh fell over onto the bed next to Sherlock and wrapped herself up in his sheet before cuddling up into his side. "Well, I don't have anything to compare that to, but it seemed to do the trick..." She said, giggling slightly.

"I agree." Sherlock's voice wavered. "I don't have anything to compare it to, either. It was decent, I think."

"Decent? You have sex for the first time and you tell the girl it was only decent? Really?" McKinleigh rolled her eyes.

"Then, how would you describe it?"

McKinleigh paused, pursing her lips, before quietly answering, "Decent..."

"Exactly."

They laid in silence for a few minutes, wrapped up in each other, just thinking, when Sherlock finally spoke up. "Should you be getting home? It's late."

"Auntie already told me she was getting up and going to the store first thing in the morning. And she won't check on me when she gets up or before she leaves." McKinleigh shrugged. "I'm not a morning person and she knows not to wake me up."

"So, what are you going to do?" Sherlock asked, glancing down at the naked girl beside him, who had her arm slung over his waist while his fingers ran absentmindedly through her hair.

"I'm really pretty comfortable, figured I might stay here, if you didn't mind." McKinleigh yawned and snuggled closer to Sherlock.

"I guess I don't mind. But why would you want to stay the night with me?"

"Sherlock, you like me because I confuse you." McKinleigh smiled as she felt Sherlock nod. "Well, I like you because you intrigue me. You're a very interesting man." McKinleigh paused again, thinking. "I hope you know I'm going to break your heart." She said, simply, placing a kiss on Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock shrugged. "I've been told that I don't actually have a heart."

McKinleigh nodded slowly. "Good. Makes things a bit easier, then. Good night, Sherlock."

"Good night, Mackie." Sherlock reached over and turned his bedside lamp off, drowning the room in perfect darkness, before sliding down in bed to curl up with the tiny girl next to him.

X X X


	4. Effect: Tea With John

**Alone With You**

**Effect: Tea With John**

**A/N: So, to my knowledge, the only things that aren't going to be canon with this story is the when Sherlock moved into 221B and that he is in a kind of relationship. PLEASE LET ME KNOW HOW I'M DOING! xoxo**

It had been a week since McKinleigh's encounter with Sherlock. She tentatively knocked on the door of 221B hoping to catch him at home. She wanted to talk to him; to explain why she did what she did. She heard a voice tell her to come in, so she slowly opened the door, only to see John sitting at the table drinking a cup of tea and reading the paper.

"Oh, hello." John said, folding his paper and setting it down.

"Hello, John. Is Sherlock around?" McKinleigh asked, walking into the flat.

"No, he isn't. Got a text message about 20 minutes ago and ran off. Here, come sit." John moved some things out of one of the chairs at the table. "Fancy a cuppa?"

"Well, if you're offering." McKinleigh smiled. "Thanks." She said, as he returned with a steaming cup of tea.

"So, if you don't mind my asking," John started as he sat back down, "do you and Sherlock have some kind of history? Mrs. Hudson seems a bit oblivious, but he's been acting odd since you arrived. Well, odder, if that's even possible."

"Things are complicated. But we do have a history. One my aunt knows nothing about." She took a small sip of her tea. "I'm sure you don't know anything about it seeing as I'm also sure he's never mentioned me."

"Oh- Uhm, well- I'm sure- I'm sure he has.. I just- uhm- wasn't paying attention." John stammered.

"You don't have to lie for him, John. He doesn't exactly like to talk about me."

John cocked his head to the side. "Why is that?"

"I'll tell you exactly the same thing I told him the day after we met. I'm a runner, John. Things seem like they're getting out of my control and I run. I've ran on him twice now. The first time was purely coincidental. The second time, I didn't even tell him I was leaving." John stayed quiet, but looked like he wanted her to continue. "When we first met, I was 15 and he was 21. My father had just died, I started acting out, and my grandmother sent me here to Auntie hoping she straighten me out. But she really only fed my cigarette habit and let me run wild on the streets of London. I was here for a year, things started getting serious, and I caught him doing some things that are less than respectable... Well, you live with him, so I'm sure you've heard about his past." John paused in the middle of his drink, looking up at McKinleigh, confused. "Or you haven't. Let's just say, if all he does now is slap on a nicotine patch or smoke the occasional cigarette, he's golden. But honestly, I don't think I could tell you how glad I was to have an out because I had to go back home."

"Right, right..." John said, taking a drink.

"He told me he loved me." McKinleigh mused. " That's why I ran the second time. I was a couple months away from 20 and I don't know, John... I freaked out. Left in the middle of the night. Didn't even tell him I was leaving. He texted me every day for a year afterwards. I still have all of the text messages. 5 years later and I still have them all."

"I'm sorry, but why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because I can tell how you see him, John. You care about him, but you see him as everyone else sees him. A robot. No emotion, doesn't care about anything. But he's not always like that. Granted, he treats me like that around most people, but when we're by ourselves, he's a little different. I'm afraid I've made him into what he is now, though. He wasn't this bad when I met him."

"But he's not mad at you for leaving?"

"Oh, no. He's still mad. Furious, actually. But he won't show it. He is absolutely, without a doubt, completely furious with me, yet he still stayed the night with me the day I arrived." John almost choked on his tea and McKinleigh laughed. "Yes, John. Sherlock Holmes spent the night with a woman. He's spent many a night with me. He's a good man, Sherlock is. He means well, even when he might not show it the way a normal person would."

John opened his mouth to reply, but Sherlock burst into the room excitedly. "Come on, John. We have a lead to follow." He noticed McKinleigh and paused. "Hello again, Ms. Kelly."

McKinleigh nodded once. "Mr. Holmes." She stood up, taking her cup to the sink. "Thanks for the cuppa and chat, John. It was nice. I have some more unpacking to do, so I'll let you two get back to business." She gave a small wave before walking towards the door. John was in the kitchen depositing his cup in the sink, so as she passed by Sherlock, she whispered, "Come down tonight. I want to talk." She squeezed his hand lightly and left.

She hadn't heard the boys return by the time she was ready for bed. Thinking that Sherlock probably wasn't ready to talk to her, she begrudgingly put on her pajamas and crawled into bed. She had been tossing and turning for about 30 minutes and was just about to fall asleep when she heard her bedroom door click open and closed softly. There was a quick rustle of clothing being discarded before she felt a warm body clad in only boxer shorts climb into bed next to her and wrap it's arm around her waist.

"You told John about us." A deep voice said in her ear and she couldn't help but smile slightly.

"I knew you had heard us. You were a bit overdramatic with your entrance." McKinleigh turned over and buried her head in Sherlock's chest. "You haven't told John about yourself."

"Why would you tell him?" His voice reverberated in his chest.

"Why wouldn't you?" She heard Sherlock sigh and she shook her head. "He deserves to know. About all of it; you and us. He's your friend, after all."

"I don't have friends." Sherlock stated simply.

"He's your friend, Sherlock. Whether you choose to admit it or not. Am I not your friend?" McKinleigh snuggled in closer.

"I believe you qualify as more that a friend, Mackie."

"Was I right?" McKinleigh breathed in Sherlock's unique scent.

"About me being furious? Yes, spot on, actually." Sherlock began to run his thumb in circles on McKinleigh's hip.

"Then why are you here?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He sounded confused. "You asked me to be here, so I came."

"You have every reason in the world to not do as I ask. I wouldn't have blamed you in the slightest if you hadn't came at all." Sherlock remained quiet, contemplating what McKinleigh had said. When he didn't respond, she sighed heavily. "Kiss me?"

Sherlock didn't hesitate to comply with the request. He placed his lips gently on hers and she ran her fingers through his hair. The kiss deepened as McKinleigh's tongue begged entrance into Sherlock's mouth. He graciously accepted and rolled himself on top of her. He tugged at the bottom of her shirt, but she placed a hand on his chest to stop him. He looked down, confused for a second time that night.

"Not tonight. I want to do things right, Sherlock. I want to start over."

"But we already-" He began.

"Let's erase last time from the slate. And every other time. I want a relationship with you. This time, I mean it. A real relationship. We date, we talk, we do everything the right way, and when it feels right, then we sleep together. We pretend the past never happened."

"Why? What made you change your mind?"

"You did. You remember the last time we slept together, the night I left?" Sherlock nodded. "Until last night, I hadn't had sex with anyone since then. And I know you haven't either." Sherlock opened his mouth to object, but McKinleigh interrupted him. "Are you going to tell me you had any female conquests while I was gone?"

"Well, no, I haven't. But what gives you the right to assume as such?"

"Because I know you. And I know how much it weirded you out the first time _we _had sex. You could barely bring yourself to do it with me, therefore why would you just go around sleeping with random women?"

"Still doesn't give you the right to assume." Sherlock grumbled.

"I thought you were 'Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective' not 'Sherlock Holmes, closet Casanova'." McKinleigh giggled. "In due time, love. In due time." McKinleigh kissed him quickly. "Go to sleep, darling. I promise I'll be here when you wake up."

"You'd better be. I meant it when I said I couldn't handle you leaving again."

"Believe me, love. I couldn't handle it, either."

X X X


	5. Cause: Until They Meet Again

**Alone With You**

**Cause: Until They Meet Again**

**A/N: I'll reiterate the revised authors note in chapter 1 for the older readers because I switched chapter one with chapter two and then, chapter three with chapter four, which doesn't really affect anyone except me because now I have to write two "cause" chapters in a row. BUT the way this story is written is in alternating "CAUSE" chapters (which take place 10 years pre-series) and "EFFECT" chapters (which are roughly 6 months pre-Reichenbach) and each set of cause and effect chapters will correlate a bit. So, PAY ATTENTION TO THE CHAPTER TITLES! :) Apparently, people have been confused by the story. As always, let me know how I'm doing! xoxo**

There is almost nothing in the world that can prepare anyone, especially a 16-year-old, for the shock that comes from seeing a positive pregnancy test. And yet, McKinleigh was sitting in her aunt's bathroom, trying not to cry from shock and excitement as she stared at the little pink plus sign. She heard Mrs. Hudson leave and she ran out of the bathroom, tucking the little stick into her pocket, heading for Sherlock's apartment. But when she arrived, the sight was not something she wanted to see.

McKinleigh opened the door to his flat quietly and looked around, when she didn't immediately see Sherlock; she walked all the way in and froze. Sherlock was passed out on the couch with a needle in his hand and a small bottle of morphine on the coffee table, accompanying a few lines of cocaine, as well. McKinleigh didn't know what to think. This is what he had been hiding for a year, a drug addiction. How did she not see the signs? They had been practically inseparable for the past year, so how did she not realize that he was a closet addict? He had come close to tell her so many times, but always seemed to stop himself.

She slowly backed out of the apartment and shut the door, running back to her aunt's flat. What was she going to do? The answer came almost immediately. She had to leave and she couldn't tell him; not that she was pregnant and not about the compromising position she had found him in. He could never know.

Later that night, McKinleigh knocked on the door to Sherlock's flat. She wasn't about to walk in on something like she had earlier, again.

"Come in." Sherlock called from the kitchen.

McKinleigh walked in, immediately noticing how much paler Sherlock looked, and took a seat at his dining room table. "I need to talk to you." She said, quietly, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

Sherlock sat down next to her, looking worried. "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

"Gran wants me to come home." McKinleigh took a deep breath. "She's been ill and needs me to take care of her." Sherlock remained quiet. "I don't know if or when I'll be back."

Sherlock just nodded. "When do you leave?"

"I leave in the morning. I'll keep in touch. I promise." McKinleigh stood up from the table and touched Sherlock's arm lightly. "I need to go pack. I'll come see you before I leave."

* * *

It had been almost 4 years since McKinleigh had set foot inside 221B Baker Street. And yet, here she was, standing on the front porch, in the rain, debating on whether she should knock or not. She stubbed out her half-wet cigarette butt and sighed, giving in. Almost as soon as she knocked, the door flew open and her breath hitched in her throat.

Sherlock stood at the door, his eyes wide. "You aren't due to visit your aunt for another week." He said, trying to act calm.

"You're the reason I even told her I'd visit in the first place. I had to see you." McKinleigh rubbed the back of her neck. "We have to talk."

Sherlock nodded slightly and moved out of the way for McKinleigh to come in. They walked in silence up to Sherlock's kitchen and McKinleigh sat down at the table while Sherlock made tea.

"So, what did we need to talk about?" Sherlock asked, sitting down. "I was under the impression that you had nothing to say to me since you didn't keep in touch."

"That's why I needed to talk to you. You need to know why I left." McKinleigh sighed and sat her cup down. "Gran wasn't really sick."

"I deduced as much. So, why did you really leave?"

"Think about it, Sherlock. You tell me. I was sick for days before I left, yet you never caught anything. I was overly tired, moody, cramping... Come on. I know you aren't an idiot."

"You were pregnant."

"I was going to tell you, the day I told you I was leaving. But- that's also what I wanted to talk to you about. I didn't say anything and I left because when I came down to tell you, I found you passed out on the couch, surrounded by drugs, and I freaked out. That's why I lied. I didn't keep in touch because every time I went to text you or call you, I was going to tell you about her but I just couldn't."

"Her?" Sherlock asked, biting his lip.

"Her name is Charlotte; Charlotte Holmes Washington. I gave her up for adoption, but it's an open adoption so I get to see her whenever I want. She knows she's my daughter and that the Washington's are taking care of her for me. And it hasn't been an issue before, but now she's getting old enough that she wants to know why her mummy visits, but her daddy doesn't. I want you to see her, Sherlock. But I want you to be clean when you do. And not just a little clean. I want you to be clean for a few months, at least."

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, defeated. "Anything for you. Do you have any pictures?"

"She has your cheekbones." McKinleigh smiled, pulling out her mobile. "And your curly hair. You can barely even tell that she's mine."

Sherlock sighed as he scrolled through the pictures, his mind racing. "Why didn't you just tell me and ask me to get clean? You did it just now and it worked. What made you think it wouldn't have worked then?"

"I wasn't thinking about if you'd say yes or no, or if you'd actually do it, I was 16 and freaked out. You hid that from me the entire time we were together! We were together for a year, Sherlock! How do you think I felt knowing you had hidden something from me?" McKinleigh shook her head. "That was kind of why I didn't feel so bad hiding it from you. I saw us as even. You hid something, I hid something. Fair trade, right?"

The pair sat in silence for a moment before Sherlock spoke up. "I got a job, you know."

"Oh, really? Might I ask where?"

"Scotland Yard."

"A drug addict going to work on the police force… Bit ironic, don't you think?" McKinleigh winked and laughed a little. :What exactly are you doing for the ol' coppers?

"Oh, shut up. I'm a consulting detective." Sherlock looked very proud of himself. "When the police are in over their heads, which is always, they consult me and I help them solve the crime."

"You made that job up." McKinleigh laughed as Sherlock shrugged. "You did, didn't you? Kind of brilliant, actually. Make up a job and no one knows they need someone until you tell them about it. How exactly did you come up with 'consulting detective'?"

"I accidentally stumbled onto a crime scene, solved it in about 5 minutes after I realized where I was, some stupid bloke named Anderson arrested me, but the Detective Inspector, Lestrade, let me go a couple hours later when they actually caught the perpetrator and Lestrade asked if I wanted a job. Simple, really."

"And crime never stops, so you will always have something that keeps that brain of yours working."

"Exactly what I was thinking." Sherlock looked down at his cup of tea that had gone cold. "I've missed you, Mackie. There hasn't been a day where I haven't thought about you. You know I'm not good at this- this emotion stuff, but I got really bad with the drugs and things after you left. And if I'm going to get clean, then you need to do something for me."

"Anything." McKinleigh looked down at her empty cup, almost knowing what he was going to say.

"Don't leave again. Not unless it's life or death. I- I can't handle it. I've never had a normal life, you know that. I was made fun of; I was hated. Just for being myself. You are one of the first people to look past how I am. You are the reason I'm not alone anymore. I don't know what I would do if you left again."

"Well, don't do anything stupid and I should stick around."

"What qualifies as something stupid?"

"I guess I'll let you know if it happens." McKinleigh smirked. "I can't make any promises, Sherlock, but I'll try my hardest. That's the best I can do."

"What if that's not good enough?"

"Well, it'll have to be, won't it?"

"Damn it, Mackie, that's not fair." Sherlock slammed his mug onto the table.

McKinleigh stood up silently and walked into the kitchen to put her cup into the sink. It had barely made contact with the stainless steel when she felt someone breathing on the back of her neck. "Life isn't fair, Sherlock. We both know that." She said quietly, turning around and resting her head on his chest.

He wrapped his arms around the small girl and sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Well, I don't know where your mind has been since I arrived, but after I got my news off of my chest, all I can think about is dragging you into your bedroom and neither of us leaving for days. Except for food and things. No clothes, no worries, just us. I've missed you so much."

"Leave it to you to bring up sex practically the moment you arrive." Sherlock smiled, shaking his head.

"Don't tell me that you didn't start thinking about it the second you saw me."

"Oh, I started thinking about it. I just thought that we'd get in some great conversation, maybe a little telly, before it got brought up." Sherlock smirked.

"But you don't watch telly." McKinleigh said, slightly confused, before noticing the grin on Sherlock's face.

"Oh, right. I don't." Sherlock said, simply, before grabbing McKinleigh under her bum and lifting her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist, and he pressed her back against the kitchen wall.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled as she leaned in to kiss him. Their lips met with fiery passion, molding together perfectly. McKinleigh pulled back a bit and just looked at Sherlock. "How could I have ever left you when I love kissing you this much?"

"I ask myself that every day." Sherlock stated, kissing her again.

"I'm really going to try." McKinleigh whispered.

"I am, too." Sherlock whispered back, adjusting the girl wrapped around him and walking towards his bedroom.

X X X


	6. Effect: Moriarty

**Alone With You**

**Effect: Moriarty**

McKinleigh half-ran out of Sherlock's bedroom, wrapped in nothing but his sheet and clutching her mobile for dear life. "Sherlock! Sherlock Holmes, you come here right now!"

"What? What's the matter?" Sherlock asked, standing up from the table abruptly.

"Who the fuck is Moriarty, what does he have to do with you, and why is he threatening my family?!" McKinleigh turned to John, who was doing his best to avert his eyes from the half-naked woman. "I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean to come out without clothes on, but at least I remembered a sheet this time." She turned back to Sherlock. "Now, explain!"

"Just wait a minute, Mackie. Who is he threatening?"

"Charlotte!" McKinleigh yelled, resisting the urge to throw her phone straight at Sherlock's head. "I just got off the phone with Mrs. Washington. Apparently, a letter arrived this morning threatening Charlotte. And the postman said it had been left at the post office weeks ago, specifically to be delivered today!"

"On the day we were supposed to visit. Damn it!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Now, who the fuck is Moriarty?"

"He's my… Arch-nemesis. Or something like that. Do you remember the man who was going to steal the crown jewels and the trial I had to testify at a few days ago? That's him."

"An arch-nemesis, Sherlock? Really? Do you know what kind of people wind up with an arch-nemesis? Comic book superheroes! Real life people don't have arch-nemeses!"

"Well, it's not like I'm the one who started calling him that! He made that up himself!" Sherlock was fuming. "You act like I _want_ him to be taunting me and threatening everything that I actually care about!"

"Is that why he's threatening her? Because of you?"

"Yes." Sherlock sighed. "I'm sorry. I will not let anything happen to her."

"Who are you talking about?" John asked, walking to the kitchen to dispose of his empty tea mug.

"Of course he hasn't told you. You really like keeping secrets, don't you, Sherlock? God, I knew you didn't like to talk about me, but damn. Why don't you tell him?"

Sherlock sighed in defeat. "We have a daughter named Charlotte. Her birthday is tomorrow and she will be 8. I didn't even know about her until she was 3 because _someone else_" he turned to McKinleigh, "likes to keep secrets, as well. She was put up for adoption after birth. And apparently, Moriarty has found out about her."

"Well, what are you waiting for, then? Go keep her safe!" John half-shouted.

"Yes, great idea…" Sherlock seemed distracted. "Go on, then. Go get dressed, both of you."

"You want to go on an adventure, John?" McKinleigh smiled.

John cocked an eyebrow. "An adventure?"

"What? You don't think that meeting the spawn of Sherlock Holmes will be an adventure?" McKinleigh laughed. "It's what I imagine him to have been like as a child, only she's a bit more sociable that he is."

* * *

"Well, that was interesting." John chuckled as the trio walked back into 221B. "She was actually adorable and a bit funny."

"What were you expecting?" McKinleigh asked, removing her jacket.

"Well, a miniature Sherlock." John shrugged. "Although, the way she deduced about my military service was just as crazy as when Sherlock did it."

"Well, she's very much like him in a lot of ways. But you must have forgotten that I'm her mother." McKinleigh laughed. "Part of me had to get through. If it hadn't, I don't know what I would do."

John turned to look behind him. "Where- Where did Sherlock go? He was right behind us."

McKinleigh turned around as well. "Oh, uhm, I don't know. He's been a little off since the trial, don't you think? Maybe this has him worried about the verdict. Aren't they starting that tomorrow?"

John threw his jacket onto the coat rack and walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on. "Yes, if he doesn't have a defense. But a guy like him should have one. If it's a short defense, then they'll definitely do is sentencing tomorrow, though."

"I'm worried about him, John. He seemed off the whole time we were gone."

"Maybe he didn't think Moriarty would go after someone like Charlotte."

"Yeah… Maybe, you're right. I don't know."

John sat a cup of tea down in front of McKinleigh. "Don't worry about him. He'll be fine."

* * *

McKinleigh was lying in Sherlock's bed, waiting for him to come in the room. It seemed like ages before he finally came in, and when he did, he just stood in the doorway staring at her. He had barely spoken all day after the jury had reached a 'not guilty' verdict.

"What's the matter?" McKinleigh asked, shifting to see him better.

"You are a fantastic woman, you know that?" He took his robe off and tossed it on the floor. He climbed into bed and placed a kiss on his girlfriend's bare shoulder.

"Sherlock," she whispered. "What's going on?"

Sherlock moved his hand under the blanket, noting that McKinleigh was in fact naked. He breathed deeply. "I love you."

"I love you, too." McKinleigh replied, as Sherlock rolled himself on top of her.

* * *

Sherlock was waiting in the darkened morgue, waiting patiently for Molly Hooper. When she arrived, he scared her slightly when he appeared from the shadows and began to speak. "You do count. You've always counted, and I always trusted you. But you were right. I'm not okay."

"Tell me what's wrong." Molly said, quietly.

"I think I'm going to die." He stated.

"What do you need?" She asked, just as quietly.

"If I wasn't everything you think I am, or I think I am, would you still want to help me?" Sherlock asked, darkly.

"What do you need?" Molly asked again.

"You."

X X X


	7. Cause: Gone Again

**Alone With You**

**Cause: Gone Again**

**A/N: Kind of dirty at the beginning here. JSYK. :) **

Sherlock threw his pajamas and boxer briefs on the floor and crawled back on top of the naked girl in his bed. He pressed his lips to hers while his fingers traced down the curves of her body. He latched his lips onto the pulse point at the base of her neck as he dipped two fingers inside of her and began to pump them slowly in and out. Her body shivered at the feeling and her voice trembled.

"Sherlock… Sherlock, please. Please…" McKinleigh begged. "I need you…" She whispered.

Sherlock withdrew his fingers painfully slow and McKinleigh whimpered. He placed himself at her soaking wet entrance, pushing just the tip in, and paused. He watched as McKinleigh writhed underneath him. She opened her mouth to beg for him, but she couldn't form the words. She clawed at his back and tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his head down to capture his lips with hers as he thrusted quickly, encasing his entire length in her in one fluid motion.

McKinleigh squeaked into his mouth at the sudden movement, before moaning loudly and biting his lip.

Sherlock began to pump his shaft excruciatingly slow and watched as McKinleigh's face contorted in pleasure.

"Faster, Sherlock, faster. Please, dear God, please." She whispered, begging once more. "Harder!" She moaned.

He obeyed, thrusting faster and harder. They were panting in sync, sweat dripping down their bodies.

"I'm gonna- Oh, _fuck_!" Sherlock felt her tight, hot walls begin to spasm around him with her orgasm and it sent him over the edge. He pulled out quickly and he spilled out onto her stomach.

"You are brilliant, absolutely fantastic." Sherlock panted out as he picked up his t-shirt to clean up his mess.

"And you must have had a very excellent teacher." McKinleigh winked.

"Oh, I did. She was the best. And beautiful, to boot." Sherlock threw his shirt back onto the ground and laid down next to McKinleigh. "Promise me that you won't freak out with what I'm about to say."

"Okay?" She looked confused.

"I'm not exactly sure what love feels like. Probably one of the only things I don't know. But if I had to take a guess, I think it would feel like what I feel for you." He leaned in and kissed her softly. "I love you." He whispered, as he cupped her face, kissing her again.

"And I, you…" McKinleigh struggled out as they broke apart.

"Goodnight, Mackie." Sherlock smiled as he rolled over onto his side.

"Uhm, 'night." McKinleigh replied, slowly. She waited until Sherlock's breathing evened out and he began to snore lightly and she slowly climbed out of bed. She quietly left the room and headed back to her own room, frantically packing her things.

When Sherlock awoke the next morning, he was very much alone.

_Where are you? –SH_

_You didn't even tell Mrs. Hudson you were leaving. We're worried. –SH_

_I'm coming to find you. –SH_

_Never mind. Mrs. Hudson talked to your Gran. Are you really in Italy? –SH_

_Answer me. Please. –SH_

_I miss you. –SH_

_What did I do wrong this time? You said you'd tell me. –SH_

_Was it because I told you I loved you?- SH_

_DAMN IT. Answer me. –SH_

_Why am I still texting you? You've been gone two months and I've yet to receive a reply. At least you've talked to Mrs. Hudson. How's Iceland? –SH_

_I need to hear your voice. –SH_

_Happy birthday, Mackie. –SH_

_You've been gone three months now, and I still put out a cup for you when I make tea. Ridiculous. –SH_

_You really aren't coming back, are you? –SH_

_I'm lost without you. I hope you know that. –SH_

_I helped Scotland Yard solve another case today. Some guy killing people and stealing their big toes. Remember when you found that jar of toes in the kitchen and thought I was a serial killer? –SH_

_Remember when I told you I loved you? That was stupid and I take it back. Now, please come home. –SH_

_It's been 6 months. Where are you? –SH_

_**We can't do this, Sherlock. Quit texting me. –MK**_

_Can't do what? Be HAPPY? –SH_

_Fine. I see how it is. Have a good time seeing the world, I guess. –SH_

_I can't do it. I can't not text you. Deal with it. –SH_

_This is getting a tad bit tedious. I'm sorry. –SH_

_I'm sure you're sick of me. –SH_

_I'm done trying to get an answer out of you. I'm done texting you. I know I must seem pathetic. I'm so sorry. –SH_

_Goodbye, Mackie. I'll miss you. –SH_

X X X


	8. Effect: After the Fall

**Alone With You**

**Effect: After the Fall**

"This phone call, it's… it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note…" Sherlock said his voice thick with tears as he looked down on John and McKinleigh from the roof of St. Barts.

"Leave a note when?" John asked, all of them already knowing the answer.

"Good-bye, John, Mackie…" Sherlock threw his phone down, raised his arms and took his last step off of the roof.

The next week was a blur. After the funeral, John, McKinleigh, and Mrs. Hudson sat in Mrs. Hudson's upstairs flat, with untouched mugs of tea in front of each of them.

"I hate him." McKinleigh whispered to no one in particular.

"No, you don't." John answered.

"I do. I hate him." McKinleigh closed her eyes. "He left me, John. He left us. And he did it knowing exactly how it feels to be left. It's not fair."

"Yes, well, Sherlock never really took everyone else's feelings into consideration." Mrs. Hudson said, trying not to cry again.

"Auntie, don't. He knew exactly how he felt when I left, so why would he take the easy road? It's not fair!"

John stood up abruptly and held his hand. "Come on, Mack. Let's go."

"I don't want to go anywhere." She pouted.

"Take. My. Hand." John said, forcefully, staring at McKinleigh. "Please..."

She let out a sigh, but obeyed, wrapping her hand around John's and standing up. He led her down the stairs until they reached her own flat. He opened the door and led her to her bedroom, sitting her down on her bed. He walked into her bathroom and began to fill up the bathtub. Walking back out, he looked at the mess of a girl. He shook his head, silently cursing Sherlock, and made his way to her dresser, pulling out pajamas and underwear for her.

"Where are your towels?" John asked, setting the clothes on the bathroom counter. "Never mind, found them. Come on, then." He said, as he turned off the water in the bathtub.

McKinleigh slowly walked into the bathroom and saw what John had done. "Thank you." She whispered.

"Now, you take a soak, I don't care how long you're in here. I mean, too long and I might have to come in and check on you. But I'll be out in the living room when you get done." McKinleigh just nodded and closed her bathroom door behind John as he walked out.

As he promised, John was sat in the living room waiting. "Thank you, John. I really needed that." McKinleigh said as she walked in.

"Everybody does every once in a while." He checked his watch and shook his head. "Well, I guess I better be going so you can get to bed." He stood up and grabbed his jacket.

"You've been staying in a hotel." McKinleigh stated, biting her lip.

"Oh… Yes… Well, I just can't stay in the flat right now, you know…"

"I understand. Uhm, look, don't take this the wrong way, but stay here for a while; as long as you want, actually. That way neither of us has to be alone. I'll sleep on the couch and you can take my bed."

"I couldn't possibly…" John began, but McKinleigh shook her head. "Are you sure?"

"I don't want to stay here by myself and you can't possibly afford a hotel for much longer."

John chuckled. "Well, you aren't wrong there." He nodded slowly. "Alright, let me go get my things and I'll check out of the hotel tomorrow. Thank you."

"You're welcome." McKinleigh smiled a small, sad, half-smile.

* * *

_You've been gone a month. Feels like longer. I don't know why I'm texting you. It's not like you'll answer. –MK_

_We visited you today. They finally got your headstone up. Auntie started going off about your bad traits (which happen to add up when you start to list them) in an attempt to not be upset. I yelled at you, told you I hated you. John told you to stop being dead. But people can't just stop being dead. –MK_

_Could you do that for us? Please, stop being dead. –MK_

_We need you. –MK_

_John has been staying in the flat with me. He sleeps in my bed with me now, but don't worry. My couch isn't very comfortable to sleep on and neither one of us likes being alone. He likes to cuddle in his sleep, but that's about as far as it's gone. –MK_

_I don't think of John that way. He's like a brother. Promise. I couldn't do that to you. -MK_

_We miss you. –MK_

_I miss you. –MK_

_We left you a cuppa on the table in your flat. You know, in case you get thirsty. We're headed to bed. Goodnight. –MK_

_I guess you weren't thirsty. Cup is still full this morning. –MK_

_It's been three months. I think we're going to stop leaving you tea now… -MK_

_Not yet, though. John thought maybe we should leave you a cigarette. –MK_

_Oh, I started smoking again. Did I tell you? John doesn't approve, really, but he understands. –MK_

_Did you just open my text message? It says it's been read. Maybe my phone is finally kicking the bucket. There's no way you read my text. –MK_

_Well, cigarette is still here. I guess you didn't want it. –MK_

_John and I got in a fight over the damn cigarette. I can't stop crying. –MK_

_Over you, not John and the cigarette. –MK_

_Okay, can a phone be wrong twice? Or is someone really opening these messages? –MK_

_Sherlock? –MK_

_John's asleep, but I'm sneaking out to leave you another cigarette. Just in case… It's been a month since we last tried. -MK_

_Cigarette is gone. John has no idea I left one. Did you take it? –MK_

_You couldn't have taken it. I don't even know why I'm still texting you. –MK_

_Is it too late to tell you that I truly do love you? –MK_

_I'm leaving you another cigarette tonight. –MK_

_It's gone again. What's going on? –MK_

_How can 6 months go by so fast? I mean, really. –MK_

_I think I'll start leaving one every night. The tea doesn't seem to be wanted, but the cigarette is. –MK_

_John joined me on my cigarette break tonight. He didn't smoke, just sat with me. Today is 8 months. My smoke break was extra-long tonight. –MK_

_10 months today. Things are getting easier. –MK_

_Well, kind of easier. John still sleeps next to me, though. –MK_

_Today has been a year. This is the last text message I'm going to send you. Cut myself off cold turkey. It's for the best. –MK_

_I love you, Sherlock Holmes. Good-bye. –MK_

X X X


	9. Effect: Waking From the Dead

**Alone With You**

**Effect: Waking From the Dead**

**A/N: Just a heads up, there will be no more "past/cause" chapters. From here on out, everything will be an 'effect' chapter! **

McKinleigh had had her suspicions for months, but tonight she was testing her theory. She had talked to a few people, received a few odd texts from someone she didn't know, and had clues slapping her in the face left and right. But tonight she was going to prove herself either right or completely wrong.

When she snuck up to Sherlock and John's flat around midnight to leave her nightly cigarette, she didn't leave. Instead, she took a seat in Sherlock's chair and waited. Her phone dinged with an incoming text message, which she quickly read, and grinned. A couple hours later, she heard the door to the flat open and close quietly, a sound she was used to from when her and Sherlock used to have to sneak around. And sure enough, Sherlock Holmes, in the flesh, walked into the dining room of the flat and reached out to pick up the lone cigarette.

"You're really here." McKinleigh breathed out. "I almost thought I was delusional."

Sherlock spun around and gulped, causing his Adam's apple to bob up and down quicker than normal. "M-mackie? What are you doing here?"

"Waiting on you to make your nightly appearance." She covered her mouth and rubbed her face with her hand. "I… I hate you."

"Please, don't say that. You don't understand why…" He held his hand out, trying to stop her.

"No, I don't. But what I do understand is that you are supposed to be dead, Sherlock." McKinleigh jumped up from her chair and pointed accusingly at Sherlock. "We watched you fall! We buried you! And yet, here you are, standing in front of me, flesh and bone! Do you even understand how I feel? How John and Auntie feel? Do you know what you did to us?!"

"I know. I've been watching you all." Sherlock rubbed his eyes. "When did you figure it out?"

"I had my suspicions the first night we left you a cigarette. That's where you messed up. That's the first night you opened my texts." McKinleigh couldn't help but laugh. "You always used to make fun of me and tell me that I was wasting all of the technology that was at my disposal because I had the shittiest cell phone, but now I have one that tells me when my sent messages have been opened. First I thought my phone was finally going wonky, but it kept happening periodically. And the cigarettes kept disappearing."

"I knew that was risky." Sherlock grinned a bit, shoving his hands in his pockets. "But who in England is going to sell a pack of cigarettes to a dead man?"

"First, I went to visit Mycroft." McKinleigh pulled her pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and lit one, offering her lighter to Sherlock. He took it graciously, lighting his own. "He wouldn't tell me anything, so I figured it was one of three options. One, he didn't know you were alive. Two, he knew but wasn't going to tell me I was right. Or three, you told him not to tell me. But then I thought about it. Mycroft knows everything, so that left out the first option. And you knew I'd figure it out because you can never be as cautious when it comes to me. You knew you'd slip up eventually, so why would you tell Mycroft not to tell me I was right? Strike on the third option. Plus, Mycroft has never liked me, so I figured it was option two."

"Oh, sod Mycroft. He's an idiot." Sherlock rolled his eyes, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"So, I thought for ages… Then it hit me. Who better to help you fake your death than someone in the morgue of the hospital you jumped off of?" McKinleigh grinned wickedly as Sherlock's brow furrowed.

"Molly." He spat out.

"Oh, yes. Miss Molly Hooper. Took her out to dinner, you know. For future reference, you get a couple glasses of wine in her and she'd spill government secret if she knew any. She told me everything." McKinleigh pulled out her cell phone and unlocked it. "And I've had contact with your new flatmate." Sherlock looked confused. "Does Irene Adler ring any bells?"

"I'm sure you heard me mention her. But she's dead." Sherlock kept a straight, bored face.

"She told me you'd say that. So, she told me to ask you what happened in Karachi because the two of you are the only ones who actually know. So, Sherlock, what happened in Karachi with Miss Irene Adler?"

Sherlock stared at McKinleigh through wide eyes. "I saved her life. Why was she texting you?"

"_Mackie? My name is Irene. I just wanted to let you know that Sherlock is safe and with me. I'm taking very good care of him. IA._" She scrolled down on her phone a bit. "_He talks about you constantly. IA. He hates that he had to do this to you all. IA. You're a lucky girl. He's got a nice little arse that I'd love to dig my nails into. IA._" McKinleigh paused. "That one was a bit odd, but she isn't wrong. I love digging my nails into it. But, let's see… _Are you still going to wait for him tonight? I'll make sure he's still coming. IA. He'll be there soon. IA._" Her phone went off as she received a new message. "_Good luck. IA._" She read out loud.

"Have you told John?" Sherlock asked, worried.

"Oh, no. Because you're going to tell him. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call for him right now."

"Can I tell you why before you go get him?" Sherlock asked, wringing his hands.

"Go ahead. Enlighten me."

"Moriarty, he was going to kill you. All of you. You, John, Mrs. Hudson… Charlotte… If his men didn't-" Sherlock swallowed nervously. "If they didn't see me jump. Moriarty killed himself up there. If I didn't fall, I would have been alone. I would have lost everyone I cared about."

"But he didn't actually-"

"Didn't actually kill himself. I know. They didn't find his body, at least. _Or_ a blood stain. I didn't want to lose you all. This way, I could still keep my eye on you, even though I wasn't actually here."

"You're bloody selfish. You know that? Bloody fucking selfish. I should hate you. I should fucking hate you." A stray tear fell down McKinleigh's cheek. "You left us… You left me. You know how it feels to be left. But at least you could hold onto the hope that I'd come back. You were dead. You aren't supposed to come back from that. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

Sherlock tentatively stepped forward, closer to McKinleigh. "And if you can ever find it in you to forgive me, I would be forever grateful." He wrapped his arms around her and she resisted for a minute before melting into him. "So, you and John, eh? Couldn't wait to shack up with my best mate after I was gone?" He chuckled.

"He was sleeping in a hotel and I knew he couldn't afford it, so I asked him to stay with me so neither of us had to be alone. Told him I'd sleep on the couch and he could have the bed. That lasted about an hour. I tossed and turned so much. I couldn't sleep, so I went in the room where he was doing the same thing. I crawled in and we agreed to stay on our respective sides. But he's kind of a heat-seeking missile… Definitely a cuddler, he is." She shook her head. "What about you and Irene?"

"Oh, definitely not. You know I'm a one-woman man." Sherlock chuckled deeply. "She tried once, but after I told her about you, she stopped." He tightened his grip on the girl. "I knew the two of you would probably never… But seeing him with his arm around you kind of made me jealous. At first, I thought maybe I was wrong."

"Oh, something made you jealous, eh?"

"Only for a moment." Sherlock buried his face in McKinleigh's hair. "God, I've missed the way you smell." He hesitated a moment before sighing. "Can I kiss you?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't." McKinleigh looked up at him and their lips connected. For a moment, all the rest of the world seemed to disappear. But they were brought back to Earth by someone shrieking and then a loud thud. They broke apart to see Mrs. Hudson passed out on the floor. "She saw you and fainted, didn't she?"

"I would say so."

A voice came from the staircase. "Mrs. Hudson, what's going-" John faltered as he ran into his old flat. "On?" he saw Mrs. Hudson on the floor and then his eyes landed on McKinleigh and Sherlock in the dining room. "Sherlock? What the hell is this?!" He shouted, causing Mrs. Hudson to stir a bit. John jerked his head to the side signaling Sherlock and McKinleigh to hide in the kitchen.

"John?" Mrs. Hudson asked, as he knelt by her. "What happened? I saw Sherlock."

"I think you were sleepwalking, Mrs. Hudson. Come on. Let's get you back to bed."

"But I heard voices, so I came to see… And I swear I saw him…" Mrs. Hudson said as John led her back upstairs.

"You know he's coming back as fast as he can." McKinleigh glanced up at Sherlock's worried expression.

"I know." He grimaced.

And almost as soon as John had left, he was back, and he looked furious. "Will someone explain what the bloody hell is going on?! Did you know about this?!" He asked McKinleigh accusingly.

"John, calm down. I didn't know for sure. I had a suspicion. I only came up here tonight to see if I was right. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to get your hopes up." McKinleigh bit her lip.

"You're- you're dead." John pointed at Sherlock. "I watched you hit the ground. I checked your pulse. You were dead. They put you in the ground! I visited your grave!" His voice rose with every sentence.

"John, I'm sorry. Please, listen to me…" Sherlock paused as John closed the gap between then and punched him straight in the jaw. "Or do that." Sherlock shook his head and grabbed his jaw. "Nice punch."

"Now, you can explain." John said, shaking out his hand. Sherlock began telling him the same thing he told McKinleigh and when he was finished, John pursed his lips, unsure of what to say. "You- you could have told us. We would have done anything for you."

"I know that now and I am… I am so sorry."

John was taken aback by Sherlock's apology. "Where have you been?"

"A few blocks away with Irene."

"Of course she's alive." John threw his hands in the air. "Does no one stay dead anymore? Not that I'm complaining that you're here, Sherlock. Just a generalized statement."

"You're angry. And you have every right to be. I don't blame either of you for being angry."

"Doesn't mean we aren't happy you aren't really dead." John said, pulling Sherlock into a hug.

"Will you stay here tonight?" McKinleigh asked, as the boys broke their hug.

"Only if you'll have me."

"I think I'll sleep in my own bed tonight." John mused. "Pretty sure I still have earplugs in there." He gave the couple a small smile as he walked out of the dining room to his own bedroom for the first night in over a year.

"Why would he need earplugs?" Sherlock asked, glancing at McKinleigh, who was grinning wildly. Sherlock's eyebrows rose quickly, as McKinleigh grabbed his hand and dragged him to his own bedroom. "Well, I wasn't expecting this."

"Oh, of course you were. But don't get it twisted. I'm still angry with you." McKinleigh said, before shutting the bedroom door.

X X X


	10. Effect: Understanding

**Alone With You**

**Effect: Understanding**

**A/N: WARNING: Slight sex scene!**

It was past midnight and Sherlock knew they should probably be sleeping, but he was enjoying being naked and tangled up under the sheets with McKinleigh. She had her head on his bare chest, her arm thrown over his torso, and her thigh draped over his own. He had his arm around her, his fingers drawing lazy shapes just above her bare arse.

"I understand it now, you know." She stated, breaking the silence.

"Understand what?" Sherlock drawled, slightly annoyed that she had ruined their quiet moment.

"I understand how you could be so angry at me for leaving, but still stay the night with me, still sleep with me." She sighed, dragging her fingers lightly up and down his chest. "I could almost actually hate you right now, but you are the only person I want to be near me at the same time. I just want you holding me, touching me, kissing me, caressing me… Inside of me." She chuckled slightly. "It doesn't matter how angry at you I am."

"I don't think I will ever be able to express how sorry I really am. Leaving you and John and Mrs. Hudson was the hardest thing I've ever done. And I don't wish to ever do it again."

McKinleigh sighed and closed her eyes. "I lied to you earlier."

A bizarre half-smile broke out onto Sherlock's face. He already knew she had, he was just waiting for her to actually admit it because she wasn't the only one. "Oh, really? What about?"

"About… About John and I. We did sleep together. A few times, actually." McKinleigh began to worry her bottom lip. "The first time was a couple days after your funeral. I thought it was a one-time thing. I had told him to stay in my flat with me so he didn't have to pay for the hotel, you know. The couple days after your funeral were harder than before it. We were both so distraught and incredibly drunk and I don't know what I was thinking and I kissed him. And then, it just kind of happened. We both started to regret it the next morning, but I think it was our way of dealing with things. It only happened when we got drunk a few times… It didn't mean anything."

"I saw the two of you after my funeral. Well, not all of it, just the big finish. I knew you had lied, but you were embarrassed I'd be angry. How could I be angry when you thought I was dead?" He kissed the top of her head.

McKinleigh paused. "Why would you be angry when you slept with Irene, you mean?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I only lied because you did. I figured you'd tell me eventually."

"Why?" McKinleigh whispered.

Sherlock knew what she meant. Not 'why did you think I'd tell you' but 'why did you sleep with her'. "I saw you and John. I was jealous, angry. I wanted you, but I couldn't have you and yet, John had you. And you looked like you thoroughly enjoyed it. Irene was there, comforted me, then made me realize that you needed comfort like I did and John was the one there. I felt like I was behaving like a child getting revenge. I felt ridiculous."

"But it happened more than once?" McKinleigh asked, curious.

"A few times, yes. I apologize."

"No need to apologize…" McKinleigh bit her lip, her fingers still tracing across his chest. She trailed them down his torso until they dipped below the sheet that was riding so low across Sherlock's hips, it was barely hiding anything. "I still can't believe you're here. This feels like a dream."

"But you knew I was alive."

"I knew that people were telling me that you were alive. People lie. I was afraid they were all lying to me."

Sherlock's body jerked as she trailed her finger down his thigh and he grunted a bit. "Well, I'm here. So, believe it." He said through clenched teeth as she brought her finger back, gently grazing the side of his dick. She drug her fingers through his short, neatly trimmed pubic hair and wrapped her hand around his already hardening length. "Aren't you tired?" He asked, trying to be nonchalant.

"Not in the slightest." McKinleigh pumped her hand up and down a couple times, stroking him gently as he got harder. She let go, only to crawl on top of him and kiss him deeply. Sherlock tangled his hands in her hair and kissed her back roughly. She pulled away, grinning, and began placing small kisses down his prominent jawline. She kept going down his neck, past his chest, stopping briefly to swirl her tongue in his belly button (which made him whimper), until she reached his member. She ran her tongue up the side of his warm cock and placed one last small kiss on the tip before taking as much of him as she could into her mouth. His hips buckled, forcing him in a little farther. She started out slowly, bobbing her head up and down the length of his dick, swirling her tongue around him. She glanced up and moved a bit faster at the sight of Sherlock with his head thrown backwards and his hands fisting at the sheet.

"Oh, god, Mackie. Faster. Don't stop." Sherlock moaned, gripping the back of her hair and pushing her to go faster. She happily obeyed, stroking him with her hand in sync with her mouth. His hips buckled again. "I'm gonna- Oh, god, yes…" His hips jerked once more as he spilled himself down her throat. She swallowed it all down and slowly released him from her mouth, crawling back up level with him.

She kissed him quickly and grinned. "I think I'm tired now." She giggled, slyly.

Sherlock growled and rolled himself on top of her faster than she could blink. "Oh, no. My turn." He said, kissing her roughly before settling his face in between her thighs.

The next morning, Sherlock awoke first, and upon hearing John messing around in the kitchen, quickly threw on his pajama pants and snuck out of the room. "Can I ask you something… personal?" He asked, walking into the kitchen.

"I'm not giving you The Talk. I would have thought you had that all figured out by now." John laughed a bit, putting a kettle on the stove. He noticed the odd look on Sherlock's face and shook his head. "What's the matter?"

"Mackie told me about the two of you last night."

"Ah, uhm, okay. That was- That- uhm, Sherlock…" John stuttered.

"Oh, stop. I'm over it. I saw your big finale the first time you two had sex." John opened his mouth to ask how he had seen it, but closed it as Sherlock continued talking. "But she told me about the two of you, and she seemed so guilty, and then she stuck my cock in her mouth." Sherlock crossed his arms and stared at John. "Why would she do that?"

John choked on air and almost dropped his mug. "Are you only vague when it inconveniences everyone else?"

"I'm asking you a serious question, John. I'm out of my element. Sex with her is one thing. I've overcame all of the parts that required too much thinking at first. But when she says one thing and acts like another… How do you even have relationships? " Sherlock plopped down in a chair at the table.

John sat down two mugs of tea. "Look, maybe- I mean, she feels guilty about her and I, right? Maybe she doesn't know how to express herself to you any other way. Are you angry with her?"

"No. I made the same mistakes." Sherlock said, nonchalantly.

"The Woman finally got you. Well, I don't know which one of you to congratulate." John chuckled into his mug of tea.

"Oh, do shut up. I don't want her to feel guilty. Neither of you knew I was alive and you both succumb to your baser, animalistic instincts far more than most people." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I had to invest in ear plugs before you left, Sherlock. Please, tell me more about succumbing to baser instincts." John received another eye roll. "You need to talk to Mack, not me. I can't give you any insight about her that you wouldn't already know. I dare say, you still know her better than I do."

Sherlock nodded his head once and stood up, walking back into his bedroom and shutting the door quietly. He was about to crawl back into bed, but he couldn't stop staring at the girl lying there. She lying on her stomach with the sheet draped low over her arse. Her porcelain skin looked flawless in the morning light and her jet black hair shined.

"Are you going to come back and keep me company or are you just going to stare at me?" McKinleigh grinned, not even opening her eyes.

"Oh, you're awake." Sherlock replied, shaking his head before climbing back into bed. "How long have you been awake?" He asked, as they wrapped themselves around each other once more.

"It woke me up when you walked out. I was going to get up, but I heard you talking to John, so I left you to it."

Sherlock's eyes widened. "How much did you hear?" He asked.

"I heard enough to tell you that he was right. I feel guilty for everything, especially since I thought you were dead, and I don't know how to make it up to you. I've always made everything up to you with sex. I didn't think you minded."

"This is the first time that you've really seemed guilty before the sex act. You usually wouldn't express guilt until afterwards." Sherlock brushed her hair out of her eyes. "This is the last time I'm going to say it, so you better get it through your skull. I am not angry at you or John. You don't need to feel guilty. Everyone makes mistakes. Even I do."

"If I get a voice recorder, will you repeat that? No one will believe that you admitted you make mistakes."

"Don't press your luck, Mackie. I'm being sentimental and I don't particularly like it."

"Shut up. You are allowed to be sentimental with me." McKinleigh began to laugh.

X X X


End file.
